The dude in the convenience store this morning seemed to thing so.
I stop in the same place every week for my Sunday, coupon laced paper and bargain basement gas station caramel macchiato. I'm singing a bit to myself, feeling fine in my cute heels when it's my turn to pay for my oatmeal cream pies. (Oatmeal is breakfast food, okay? And I just remembered I still have in my purse. YAY!)
This is how the conversation went.
"Uhm, are you singing this song" dude asks me as if I'm grooving along to Cole Porter or something.
"Heck yes! This is the soundtrack of my teen years, yo."
"I've never heard it before."
"It's from Reality Bites, I think or it might be from that kind of crappy movie about Yale that I loved anyway because Brendan Fraser had yet to need a hair piece."
Dude stares at me with that look of utter cluelessness you get when people walk up to you and assume you speak a foreign language just because you come by your tan honestly.
I weep for humanity.